Anne Douglas (26 page)

Meanwhile, Lynette had just arrived home early from work to be met by Monnie, flushed from cooking, who wanted to get a word in before her father.

‘You may as well know,’ she said quickly, ‘I’m back with Torquil. He came round today and we made it up.’

‘Made it up?’ Lynette’s blue eyes were glassy with surprise. ‘I don’t believe it. After all you said? How can you have made it up?’

‘How indeed?’ asked Frank, who was sitting at the table, waiting for supper, his face poker stiff. ‘Didn’t take him two minutes to make her take him back, all forgiven, all forgotten.’

‘I don’t know about forgotten,’ Monnie said quietly. ‘But I think now I might’ve been – you know – a bit hasty.’

‘You weren’t hasty, you were right,’ Frank said. ‘But there’s no point going over it. You’ve made your decision, let’s say no more about it and have our tea.’

But Lynette was giving her sister a long direct look.

‘Are you happy about this?’ she asked shortly.

‘Yes.’ Monnie’s face was defiant. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘OK, I’ll just go and wash before supper. What are we having?’

‘Gammon and baked potatoes, it’s all ready. Don’t be long.’

The meal was good; in spite of all the distractions Monnie had done well, and looking at her sister’s face now free from strain, Lynette relaxed and thought, All right, she’s taken him back. Why not, if it makes her happy? She knows the risks now, it’s up to her to look out for herself. We can’t do any more.

Her gaze moving to her father, she saw that he too had relaxed, was looking into space, half smiling, and she wondered, Was he thinking of Ishbel? No, she couldn’t really believe that Ishbel had become so important to him, even though something – or, maybe, someone – seemed to be making him particularly happy. But then he was happy anyway, up here in the Highlands.

As for herself, she knew she was half smiling too, thinking of seeing Ronan again that day, meeting his eyes, remembering their lovely time together. True, she hadn’t decided what to do about his proposal, but for the time being that didn’t matter; it could go on hold while they just enjoyed seeing each other. Being happy.

Seemed they were all happy, then, the three Foresters. Happy in their new life, even if the future was uncertain. Happy enough to have a drink and a toast, or at the very least, a cup of coffee.

‘Here’s to us and staying happy!’ she cried, leaping up from the table. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’

Forty-Three

Real summer came to the Highlands the following weekend. No mixing with winter now, even if the locals did say you sometimes couldn’t tell which was which, even if there was still snow on some of the higher mountains. In Conair and everywhere around, all was fine and pleasant.

‘Just right for your hill walk with Paul,’ Lynette commented to Monnie on Saturday morning before she left for work. ‘I take it that’s still on?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Monnie answered, but the colour rising to her brow suggested that all was not as straightforward about the meeting as might have been.

‘Torquil not happy?’ Lynette asked sympathetically. ‘Saturday was his day, eh?’

‘Look, I’ve got to check the dormitories.’ Monnie jumped up. ‘See you this evening.’

‘No, wait. I just want to tell you that Dad says it will be fine if I bring Ronan round tomorrow afternoon. It’s time he faced up to seeing his old home again.’

‘Ronan’s coming here? I thought he didn’t want to set foot in the place!’

‘He’s just afraid of stirring up old sorrows, but I want him to see how much pleasure the house is giving to young folk now. I mean, it might make him feel better.’

‘And he’s agreed to come?’ Monnie shook her head. ‘You can certainly twist him round your little finger, can’t you?’

‘Think so?’ Lynette was not displeased. ‘But I’ve got to fly. Could you do me a favour and buy one of Ishbel’s cakes for tea on Sunday? I can’t get to the shop today.’

‘Sure, I’ll see what she has, but I won’t be here tomorrow myself . . .’ Monnie hesitated. ‘I’ve arranged to meet Torquil.’

‘I see.’ Lynette shrugged. ‘Oh, well, can’t be helped. I should have guessed, if you can’t see him today, he’d want to be with you tomorrow.’

‘Yes.’ Monnie, her face averted, was already on her way to the dormitories. ‘See you tonight,’ she called again.

‘Don’t forget the cake!’ Lynette called back, and hurried for her bus, a slight frown disturbing her smooth brow.

‘Can’t see him today’, were the words Lynette had used of Monnie’s not meeting Torquil, but it wasn’t strictly true. As she made her rounds, checking that all beds had been made, and all hostellers had departed for the great outside, Monnie knew that she might have seen him. Might have cravenly backed out of her hill walk with Paul to be with him, if he hadn’t said it didn’t matter, they could meet on Sunday.

But when she’d first told him she was to go hill walking with Paul, it had mattered. His light blue eyes had flickered, and a coldness she had never seen in him before had descended on him, like a covering of frost.

‘So, you meant it, then?’ he asked. ‘You agreed to go out with him, you meant never to see me again?’

She had stared at him, perplexed. ‘You’ve never minded about me seeing Paul before, why now?’

‘I’m saying that to agree to seeing him on Saturday shows you meant to give me up. That is something of a shock.’

‘But why, Torquil? You know I was upset. I did think I would give you up, just for a little while. But if you want me to, I’ll ask Paul if we can fix another time. He won’t mind, it will be no trouble.’

‘You’d do that?’

He seemed to be softening – unfreezing, almost – before her eyes, and as she felt a great rush of relief, she knew that she had been for a moment or two very anxious.

‘Ah, well, that’s good. It was just a mistake, to fix up to see Mr Soutar on a Saturday. You never meant to give me up.’ He drew her into his arms at her father’s door, where he had come on Tuesday, just as usual, with his fish. ‘Let’s just forget all this and say we’ll meet on Sunday. How would that do?’

‘That would be wonderful, Torquil.’

But as she clattered downstairs and sought out her walking boots from the lobby, Monnie was feeling too guilty to be happy. She should never have offered to change her day for seeing Paul; that had been wrong and only done to placate Torquil, who should not have needed placating, anyway. If only she had been as strong when she was with him, as she felt now! As clear-sighted and firm to do what was right! But if she had managed to put on a show of strength when he had so much upset her, she was very unsure that she could ever do it again.

‘Everyone’s away to the hills,’ Frank said, coming out of his office. ‘And they’ve a grand day, eh? You, too. When’s Paul coming?’

‘About eleven. I’ve just got time to run down and buy the cake Lynette wants for tomorrow.’

As her father gave her a quick glance, she knew he wanted to say something about Torquil, but thinking of something to deflect him, she asked quickly if maybe he’d like to go for the cake instead.

‘Just while I’m still here, getting ready, Dad, in case anybody wants to book in.’

‘Go to the shop?’ His face brightened. ‘Aye, I’ll nip down now. It’s for Ronan, eh? What sort shall I get?’

‘Oh, leave it to Ishbel. She’ll give you something nice.’

‘Be back in a tick, then.’

Away went Frank, beaming like a child running out for sweeties, while Monnie concentrated on giving her new boots another protective rubbing and looking out for Paul. When he came, a little early, she was ready with her anorak over her arm, her boots firmly laced, and her small rucksack on her back.

‘Paul! Lovely to see you. I’ve just got to wait for Dad, though. He should be back from the shop any minute.’

‘Here he comes now!’ cried Paul, waving. ‘Nice to see you, Mr Forester. Aren’t we lucky with the weather?’

‘Och, I’m out of breath,’ Frank gasped. ‘Sorry, I’m late, Monnie, we got to talking, Ishbel and I.’

‘Did you?’ Monnie raised her eyebrows. ‘Now, why am I not surprised? What sort of cake did you get, then?’

‘One of Ishbel’s best – the coffee and walnut.’ Frank reverently placed a cardboard box on his reception counter. ‘Well, you two’d better get off, eh? Have a good climb then. And Paul, the name is Frank, OK?’

‘OK.’ Paul, grinning, took Monnie’s arm. ‘And Frank, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her.’

‘I won’t worry,’ Frank said simply. ‘I know you will.’

Forty-Four

Though she knew she had no need to feel nervous over hill walking, Monnie couldn’t help worrying in case she somehow let Paul down. He was so kind, so anxious for her to enjoy the thing that meant so much to him, it had become very important to her to acquit herself well. But supposing she didn’t? Found it all too much, couldn’t keep up? He wouldn’t blame her, of course, but she knew she would feel so bad about it.

In the event, he said she was a natural. The perfect walker to be his first pupil. How had it happened? More by good luck than good management, she’d told him, but he said not at all. She had the right build, the right strength and fitness, and with training, he could see her becoming a very accomplished Munro bagger.

All of these complimentary remarks came at the summit. To begin with, there’d been the easy start, which had involved driving to the little place he knew, no more than a hut, really, on a minor road out of Glenelg, where they could get coffee and rolls and delicious sticky buns.

‘Carbohydrates – good for energy,’ Paul remarked. ‘Like chocolate – but I’ve got plenty of that in my rucksack.’

He had been watching her, she’d noticed, while they ate, and now he said quietly, ‘It’s good to see you looking so well, Monnie.’

‘Am I?’

‘Oh, yes. I was worried about you the other day. You don’t mind if I say that?’

‘I didn’t think you would mention it.’

‘We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends can say if they’re worried.’

‘You’ve no need to worry about me.’

‘No, that seems true today.’ He lightly touched her hand. ‘And you needn’t tell me anything unless you want to, I’m not asking that. But if you did want to talk, it sometimes helps, you know.’

‘Yes, I know. Maybe later.’ She raised her eyes to his and tried to laugh. ‘Just now, I’m worrying about that hill we have to climb.’

‘No, no, we walk it.’ Paul laughed too and stood up. ‘Better make use of the little comfort station at the back. First lesson in hill walking – don’t be worrying about the loo.’

They had left the little catering outpost to cries of ‘Good luck!’ from the elderly owner and a couple of walkers still having lunch, and taken an overgrown track leading, some miles on, to a tiny loch.

‘Don’t ask me to say its name,’ Paul told Monnie, halting to take off his waterproof jacket, for the day had become very warm. ‘It’s Gaelic, of course, like the name of the hill we’re aiming for – and that’s hard to say, too. Really think I’ll have to take a few language lessons before I open my school.’

‘Found a property yet?’ Monnie asked, who was already stuffing her own jacket into her rucksack.

‘Not yet. One or two possibilities. What do you think of the view? You can look over to a couple of hills from here, one being ours.’

‘The colours are beautiful.’ Monnie, shading her eyes with her hand, gazed at the amazing blue of the little stretch of water, and in the distance the vivid greens and browns of the hills Paul was pointing out. ‘Don’t seem so high, though, do they? Not like that hill near Arnisdale.’

‘High enough, I think you’ll find, once we get going to ours. It’s not altogether easy terrain.’

‘Now you tell me!’ cried Monnie.

Some two hours later, having made their way up and over rough, muddy country, rising much higher than Monnie could have ever imagined from her distant view, they reached what Paul described as the summit.

‘The summit?’ Monnie gasped. ‘Seems . . . seems more like a plateau.’

‘Ideal for resting, then.’ Paul grinned. ‘Come on, let’s sit down – it’s fairly dry – and have some chocolate. Water first, though. We need it.’

They both drank long and thirstily from their water bottles, then ate Paul’s melting chocolate, until they felt their batteries pleasantly recharged and lay back to rest.

‘This is so nice,’ Monnie murmured, enjoying the sun on her face and bare arms. ‘I suppose I’ve been lucky. How often is the weather like this?’

‘Very rarely. Usually, there are strong winds, rain, mist, snow showers – all good fun.’

Monnie smiled, too, and was silent for a while. Suddenly, she sat up. ‘Paul, you know something?’

‘What?’

She hesitated. ‘I think I would like to tell you what happened between Torquil and me. You know something did, I suppose?’

‘I’d guessed,’ he answered quietly.

‘Yes, well, it’s true you’re a friend and I don’t want secrets from you. Not that it was all that terrible – in fact, I maybe made too much of it, I don’t know.’

Paul, chewing a piece of grass, said nothing, though she could sense the intensity of his interest, and hurried on to tell her story, wanting to get it over with, and know his reaction.

Again, in its retelling, she felt she’d magnified her ordeal. After all, what had happened? She’d been left alone on an island, she’d heard Torquil’s boat leaving, she was cold and frightened and thought all sorts of hysterical things. Was that all it was? A thoughtless action from him, the wrong reaction from her?

‘That’s what happened,’ she finished slowly. ‘Do you think I was in the wrong? Blaming him? He never meant me any harm.’

Paul, his gaze on Monnie steady and considering, threw aside his blade of grass. ‘You weren’t blaming him because he meant to do you harm, Monnie. You were blaming him because he hadn’t thought about you. Isn’t that it?’

She took a cotton sun hat from her backpack and pulled it down over her brow before she answered. ‘Yes, that was it. It seemed an age to me that he’d been gone, because of the mist and the loneliness. Then, when I heard the engine of the boat, I – I suppose I panicked. I really did think he’d left me.’